


Murder of Crows

by milka121



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi's Palace AU, Body Horror, F/F, Horror, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121
Summary: Akira wants to save him, but does Akechi want to be saved?An AU in which Phantom Thieves go to Akechi's Palace, and find themselves biting off more than they could chew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have 2 and a half chapters written as for now, about 24k words, and I was having a writer's block for a long time now. Figured I can as well post what I have written up till now before it drives me insane.  
> I always thought that mind palaces were a great opportunity to throw some horror into the plot of P5, but I've never got it, so I wrote it myself. 
> 
> Just a little heads up: The story begins at the moment in the game when PT were explaining how Akira lived through Akechi's assasination attempt. There is a dialogue option there - "What about Akechi?" - that never was explored further, as Ryuji only brushes it off and tells the protagonist to go after Shido, and it felt kind of off to me. So here you go.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Akira said. “I still think we should first take care of Akechi before going for Shido.”

“But why?” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “I mean, if we change Shido’s heart, then Akechi-”

“He has a point, though.” Makoto quickly ran a hand through her hair, as always when she was deep in thought. “Akechi is dangerous. And I don’t believe he will just let us do whatever we want if he finds out what we’re planning to do.”

“But he doesn’t know, does he?” Ann shook her head. “If we just keep quiet, then-”

“No one knows what could happen,” Makoto cut her off. “Akechi might try to follow one of us. Or he could already be monitoring our daily activities. It’s not impossible he already knows the truth.”

“But we can’t do anything, even if that’s true.” Morgana jumped out of Haru’s lap on the table, knocking Ryuji’s glass off. Probably on purpose, but Ryuji was too busy grunting ‘aw, hell!’ to pay any attention.

“I mean, he is a Persona user,” Morgana continued, “so he can’t have a Palace.”

“What about Futaba, then?” Makoto asked, her sharp glare focused on Morgana.

“She acquired her persona after she was in a process of getting rid of her Palace, and thus, her Shadow. Her Shadow became what we now know as her Persona… I think I’ve already told you about that.”

Makoto’s brows furrowed. “That doesn’t seem right. We managed to be in Futaba’s Palace quite a long time even after she got Necronomicon.”

“I’m telling you; it’s impossible.”

“Well, that’s weird,” Akira butted in, “because I already tried to put Akechi’s name in the Nav, and it’s a hit.”

There was a moment of silence when everyone present regarded Akira with uttermost disbelief. But, then again, he was their wild card, so to speak. Being unpredictable was kind of his nature.

“I… didn’t expect that.” Morgana’s tail twitched nervously. “It  _ shouldn’t _ be possible, from what I know.”

“But it’s the fact.” Akira pulled out his phone and showed the screen to Morgana. “We just need to find a location and a keyword.”

“Hey, hold on a minute!” Ryuji slammed his hands on the table so that all of their cups clattered. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“If you spill any of my coffee, I will kill you,” Ann said calmly.

Ryuji sat down. “Oh. Sorry.” He coughed. “Anyway, I-”

“We heard that you did not agree to this plan,” Yusuke cut him off. “Our hearing is still quite well.”

“Good thing you are not a leader, then, Ryuji,” Haru said innocently. 

Ryuji opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. 

Haru and Ann high-fived. 

Haru really was more resilient than she seemed, Akira thought. 

“Hey!” Makoto called in her calm-down-children-or-I-will-get-my-brass-knuckles voice. And now, after a few rather painful lessons, the Phantom Thieves managed to calm down rather quickly. She trained them well. “Anyway… We- or most of us, at least,” she shot Ryuji a sharp glare, “-agree that before taking care of Shido, changing Akechi’s heart first would probably benefit us. If he has a Palace, that might be a tremendous chance for us. For once, we might learn something about Shido’s plans there.”

“And if it all goes well, we will be able to convince Akechi to work with us. For real this time.” Ann nodded. “Smart. I’m in.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Ryuji growled, through his voice noticeably softened when Makoto shot a glare in his direction. “I-I mean… What, you’re tellin’ me Akechi will suddenly be good after we steal his heart? Dunno, it looks like too much of a hassle, y’know? We only have so much time to take Shido down, and now we have to somehow squeeze in this time for Akechi, too.”

“That’s… actually a valid point,” Morgana said. “I’m almost impressed.”

“We will manage.” Akira shrugged. “If we hurry, there will be plenty of time.” 

It was true - most of the times they finally decided to explore Palace in a way Makoto suggested, they ended up moving forward much quicker that one could anticipate. Makoto was really the brain of the group.

...but then again, so was Akechi, until he-

Akira looked at his friends - at every expression, every shade of doubt. “We must do this,” he said. “Akechi was one of us, once.”

Some of them didn’t seem convinced, but no one spoke up.

“So it’s decided, then.” Makoto nodded. “We will change Akechi’s heart, and then Shido’s. It will have to be quick, but we can manage if we plan it well.”

“We should get a place and a keyword, then,” Yusuke said. “Futaba?”

“Shut up, Inari,” Futaba replied, not raising her eyes off her laptop. 

“What- Such  _ manners _ ,” Yusuke hissed. “I honestly cannot begin to-”

“Futaba,” Akira said in his calm voice, after having a sip of coffee, “would you please try to research all possible places the Palace could be? Like Akechi’s flat, or his school, or any other place he frequently is at.”

“M’kay.”

“Hey!” Yusuke yelled.

Akira smiled. He and Morgana exchanged looks, and they understood each other without a need to speak a word. All of them had come a long way - their confidence grew with their strength, and even though facing stronger and stronger opponents still made them bit their lips with worry, it would be unwise  _ not _ to be hopeful. They have seen Akechi fight alongside them, after all; how much stronger he could be in his Palace? They knew his limits. There was nothing left to surprise them. 

* * *

**Futaba** : So I have a place

**Futaba** : it’s in Tokyo so don’t worry. Turns out the detective prince didn’t spend much life outside of the city actually

**Ann** : So soon! Wow!

**Ryuji** : Nice! 

**Akira** : Good job, Futaba.

**Futaba** : Eh, it was nothing. Just researched the places he is in the most and where he lived and came to school ect

**Futaba** : btw it looks like someone tried to wipe out some of his records. It took a bit of digging but i suppose some higher-up had a hand in this

**Makoto** : Could that be Shido?

**Futaba** : who knows. But it doesn’t really matter 

**Yusuke** : For once, I have to agree. After all, we are targeting both of them, so the matter will resolve itself. 

**Futaba** : Inari finally realised my brilliance >:D

**Yusuke** :...?

**Haru** : Sorry for replying so late! I’ve been tending to my garden and couldn’t reply. I’m glad to hear Futaba was able to take care of the problem so easily. Do you have a specific address in mind? And if yes, do you have a suggestion when we could meet up?

**Futaba** : don’t worry

**Futaba** : I’ll bookmark the location on all of your phones

**Makoto** : Haru. It’s second period. Why are you on the school rooftop?

**Futaba** : done

**Yusuke** : The implication that Futaba has an unlimited access to our phones makes me uncomfortable.

**Futaba** : lol

**Makoto** : Just focus back on classes, everyone.

* * *

They met up later the same day at the Aoyama-Itchome station - Futaba rode the train by herself, which made her incredibly proud. Akira promised himself to buy her something nice after that mission. She deserved it, after all - the work she was doing was more than they could have ever done by themselves.

Because there was no way they could have tracked down Akechi’s mother’s apartment by themselves.

Well, saying ‘apartment’ was probably an overstatement. From what they could, see, the place was… not impressive, to put it mildly. It was one of these cheap rental places with one room and a comically small, cluttered bathroom in which barley was a place for necessities; even from the safe distance they were standing in, Akira could see that the wooden stairs were worn down and rotten, and that the walls haven’t been properly painted in ages.

Haru looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure this is the place we are looking for…?”

Futaba nodded. “Yeah. The Nav says so, after all.”

“I expected something… I dunno, bigger.” Ryuji sighed. “I mean, it’s Akechi we’re talking about. He is freaking messed up. Even Kaneshiro’s Palace location was ‘all of Shibuya’, so… His mom’s place?” He raised his brows. “Seems a bit off, don't cha think?”

“Akechi’s mother commited suicide when he was four.” Futaba’s eyes were focused on Ryuji. “I think it’s enough to mess someone up.”

Ryuji blinked. “I… Sorry.” He averted Futaba’s gaze. “That was mean of me.”

Before Futaba could open her mouth, Makoto stepped up. “So, all that’s left for us to figure out is a keyword. Any ideas?”

“Not really,” Ann replied, tapping her lip with her finger. “How would he view this place? And why does it matter to him, even though it has been so many years since he was living here?”

“Time does not matter to those who are deeply hurt.” Yusuke stared at the flats, as if he expected to find a response to their question that way. Akira couldn’t really blame him, though. It was not like he had any good ideas, either. 

If there was anyone who could give them any hints on how Akechi perceived this place, it was Futaba - but then again, asking her about it when not so long ago that trauma ruled over her life… It would just be wrong. 

Makoto pressed her lips into a thin line. “Nothing? No one has any idea?”

“He acted like… Maybe he feels oppressed?” Morgana suggested. “A prison? Detention?”

_ No match found _ , declared the Nav.

“An asylum?” Yusuke said in a dreamy voice.

“Dark, dude.” Ryuji shook his head. “Maybe something bigger… Like, an actual palace? Castle, like Kamoshida’s? Villa?”

_ No match found _ .

“This is hopeless.” Makoto shook her head. “We don’t have a slightest clue on what it could be… It can take ages.”

“It certainly will be an… extraordinary task,” Haru said, stepping closer Makoto. “But you managed performing difficult tasks before, right? I’m sure we can do this if we work together. Don’t worry, Mako.” She smiled in the most endearing way imaginable. 

Makoto looked as if she was hit with a truck.

She really will need his help soon, Akira just knew it. The awkwardness between her and    
Haru was growing more and more with each second they spend together, and though it was kind of fun to watch at first, now Makoto was becoming just miserable to watch. Usually so sharp, she was completely clueless when faced with normal human interactions.

_ Not like she is an exception, though, _ Akira thought while glancing at Yusuke and Futaba. 

Well, at least Yusuke and Futaba wasn’t painfully pining after their friend.

But that could wait till they completed the task at hand. They lives would probably not be utterly destroyed if these two didn’t get together.

Probably.

“Well, then coming here was useless.” Futaba kicked a pebble. “Great.”

“Hey, even if we didn’t figure out the keyword, you still managed to get here on your own, right?” Akira ruffled her hair. She huffed and smacked away his hand, but she couldn’t hide a smile on her face.

“Y-yeah, I guess.” She coughed nervously. “Anyway… If you guys are all out of ideas, we can head home. I will try to write some algorithm to input random words and see if any of this will click.”

“Why haven’t you done this already?” Yusuke squinted his eyes with suspicion.

“Dunno.” Futaba sticked her tongue at him.

Yusuke wrinkled his nose with disgust.

Makoto sighed. “It seems there is nothing to be done here as for now. I suppose coming back home and focusing there is really the best thing to do.” 

Akira nodded. “You’re right. Let’s call it a day. And if anyone has any ideas, try inputting it into the Nav, okay? The sooner we get the keyword the better.”

“Aye, captain.” Futaba saluted. 

“We’ll get that brat soon, don’t worry.” Ryuji smiled reassuringly. “And by the way… I know a place nearby which has some nice ramen. Not the best in Tokyo, but good enough. And cheap,” he added, looking meaningfully at Yusuke. “Are you up for this?”

“Always,” Akira replied with a smile. 

They ended up paying for everything from their Thieves’ budget - it’s not like they didn’t have any money. Thievery was a rather profession, after all. And between the gulps of soup and slurps of the noodles, they could almost feel like normal teenagers again, just hanging out and having fun and, you know,  _ not _ planning a mission on which depended the fate of their country and possibly the whole world.

Looking back, Akira should have appreciated these moments more.

_ (You shouldn’t think like that _ , he reminded himself,  _ it’s not like any of you could have known.) _

* * *

“Akira?”

“Mhm?” He looked up from his phone to see Morgana sitting on the desk with his tail swatting around nervously.

“Do you have any ideas for the keyword yet? We don’t really have much time.” 

Wow. That was something new. Usually at this time of a day Morgana would just heard him to bed, mercilessly keeping his lifestyle as healthy as it was possible for a teenager.

“Not really,” Akira admitted. “But to be honest, I didn’t really think about this yet.”

Morgana perk up his ears. “Why? I thought it would be the easiest for you. Since you know Akechi the most out of all of us.”

_ That’s exactly why _ . 

Akira shook his head. “Turns out I didn’t know him that well after all, huh?” He smiled. It didn’t seem to fool Morgana. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything - just looked at Akira with that weird understanding in his eyes, as if he really was older and wiser than they thought. 

“Just think about it, okay? You have an unique mind, after all,” Morgana said. “I’m going to go to Sojiro. I heard him talking about a recipe for curry for cats, and judging from the smell, it turned out better than expected.” The tip of his tail twitched with excitement. “Good luck, Joker.”

Akira only nodded in acknowledgment before Morgana disappeared with a spring in his step.

Akira sighed and laid on his bed. He felt tired, all of a sudden. But maybe it wasn’t so unexpected - a lot has happened, after all. Even without taking Phantom Thieves’ actions into consideration… He has almost been killed a few days before. 

By Akechi.

_ This is how your justice ends _ . A smile. This wicked, warped smile, so unlike any expressions Akechi has ever showed. The press of a gun against his forehead.

Akira has not experienced this himself - that was the plan, after all - but Futaba has showed him the recording of the room in the Metaverse. And if it wasn’t Futaba’s work… Akira didn’t know if he would believe all of that.

Because it was impossible that Akechi that Akira knew would do that. The person who always ordered his coffee in the same calm tone of voice. The person who was constantly worried that he was bothering those around him. That told Akira about his past with a small smile on his lips, as if it was a simple joking matter, as if he wasn’t clutching his fists under the table.

Those same hands held a gun to Akira’s head, and pulled the trigger without any hesitation.

There had to be something more to this. It simply had to. There was no way, no way in  _ hell _ that Akechi could fabricate all of this up.  _ Something _ was wrong, and even if no one else noticed that - or cared about it - Akira knew there has to be something, anything they can do to make this all better.

To make this all like it was before. With quiet resolve, and that… that small string of understanding that was between the two of them, too fragile to so much as look at it without the fear of breaking it.

And maybe it was stupid, but… Akechi was his issue, first and foremost. If one thing Morgana said was true, it was that: yes, out of all of Thieves Akechi was the closest to Akira. And that made Akechi Akira’s business. He was the one to allowed him to work with them. He was the one responsible.

He was the one who should fix this.

Akira could hear Morgana’s and Futaba’s voice from downstairs. They sounded cheerful, carefree.

Not like they were mourning a loss of a friend.

Akira bit his lips. Yes, it was his issue. The lest he can do is to figure out that stupid keyword. Or keywords. 

Okay. Let’s focus, then. What would Akechi feel towards a place in which his mother has died?

Regret? Maybe something like Futaba’s Palace, then? “Tomb. Cemetery.”  _ No _ .

Okay. Anger, then? “Uhh… Arena?”  _ No. _ Of course not.

No, Akechi’s emotions were more complicated. And if his Palace was a place he has knew as a child, his cognition of that place was probably warped from the perspective of a child. And what would child feel if their only parent has left them? 

_ Fear _ , Akira thought, mouthing the word. Fear. How do children perceive fear? What terrifying things could a child know?

“Haunted house.”  _ No. _ “Nightmare.”

_ Beginning navigation _ .

Akira quickly closed off the Nav before it could send him into Metaverse.

That was how Akechi perceived the place? As a nightmare?

Akira opened the chat and started typing. 

**Akira** : I got the keyword. It’s “nightmare.”

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

**Ryuji** : Nice, man!

**Futaba** :... you have only won with my programme because I haven’t even made it work yet

**Yusuke** : Excuses.

**Futaba** : so don’t get your hopes up

**Futaba** : come say it to my face Inari

**Makoto** : Are you sure it’s the right keyword? We don’t need another one?

**Akira** : No, the Nav reacted to “nightmare.” It’s all we need.

**Ann** : So we are ready to go whenever, yeah?

Akira’s finger froze before he could type out a reply. Ann was right, so obviously right - now the only thing left to do was to go to Akechi’s Palace and steal his treasure. Right? That was the right thing to do.

But something in the back of Akira’s mind was hesitating, just so slightly. And Akira trusted his instincts. 

**Akira** : Actually, I need to do a few things before we are all ready. 

His hands, gripping the phone, shook just so slightly.

**Makoto** : Okay. But please do remember about our limited time. The sooner we get this out of the way, the better for everyone.

Something about the wording made Akira frown. The small entity in the back of his mind smirked triumphantly.  _ That’s how they see him, huh? Another issue.  _

**Ryuji** : Let’s get that piece of shit.

Akira’s hands clutched the phone so hard that for a second he was sure the thing will break.

Ryuji. That Ryuji who was so against labeling people. Who just recently learned to step back and sympathize with other. The one who experienced first-handedly that labeling people just by looking at their actions without any effort to understand was not right and not even close to the truth.

Ryuji was a good friend, but at the moment, Akira knew he couldn’t let him be even close to Akechi’s Palace.

Why did they gave up so easily? After all they’ve been through? Why was Akira the only one seeing this?

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe Akira was just deceiving himself. But he felt, as strong as his conviction was, that some part of Akechi was worth saving. Understanding.

“You figured something out?” Morgana’s voice pierced through the air. Akira almost dropped his phone.

“I’ve seen Futaba writing on the chat, but she was too far gone to pay attention to me,” Morgana continued. “Someone guessed the keyword, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Akira did his best at pretending his voice didn’t shook. “The day after tomorrow we will head to the Palace. We need to gather supplies, and new weapons would be cool, too, so…” His voice drifted off. He shrugged, praying that it looked not as suspicious as he thought it did.

Morgana regarded him for a second, and then jumped on the bed. “Well, you are the leader. It’s your call.”

Akira almost sighed with relief.

* * *

This was a really bad idea, Akira needed to admit it. But then again, Akira was kind of known for having bad ideas  _ and _ bringing them to life, so there was nothing really new about this.

It’s not like he’d do everything by his own. He just need to look around the place. See what it was all about. 

He had seen a castle, a museum, a bank, a tomb, a casino, even a spaceship - all of them with tight security and powerful Shadows inside. He had learned how to act inside a Palace. Just having a peek inside, just to make sure, wouldn’t be a problem. Akira wasn’t stupid.

Thank god he managed to convince Morgana to stay at LeBlanc. Not like he would be interested in what Akira would have been buying anyway. Akira made an extra effort to ensure that some leftover curry from yesterday was left unattended in his room.

Not that he would need much time anyway.

He pulled out his phone. He looked around - nothing really has changed since the last time they were there; the place still looked as dead and unwelcoming as it was possible, with a few quite suspicious people walking around and glancing at Akira.

_ Beginning navigation _ .

The world around him swirled, warped - and then, he was  _ there _ .

Honestly, he wouldn’t have noticed that anything has changed if his clothes wouldn’t transform into his usual Joker attire. Akira looked around, trying to pinpoint any differences, but he couldn’t see any.

Weird. But…

No. It wasn’t about what’s new; it was about what wasn’t there.

It was eerily quiet. All the talking, sounds of cars and footsteps - everything disappeared, leaving behind a gap that Akira’s mind simply couldn’t get used to. Even in the depths of Mementos there was  _ something _ . The silence was - it shouldn’t be present. 

Akira shook his head.  _ Focus _ , he scolded himself.  _ You can analyze stuff later. Now let’s look at how to infiltrate this place. _

Since he was in his Joker getup, Akechi must have already been treating him as a threat - well, no surprise here. Just going through the front door would be outright stupid; that was one of the first principles of thievery that Mona has taught them.

The problem was, Akira couldn’t pinpoint any other way to enter the apartment. There were windows, of course, but Akira doubted that breaking glass would be especially stealthy. Not to mention that there was probably no place to hide inside, judging by the size of the place - the best course of action would be to simply barge in and take whoever is inside by surprise. With that advantage, and with his current Personas, which he has already trained relentlessly under Morgana’s eye, he felt fairly confident.

He took a deep breath, fixed his gloves and walked to the front door. His steps echoed in the silent street, the sound multiplied, despite Akira’s best efforts. The creak of the stairs seemed to mock him. Or maybe just being used to Morgana made him think that way.

The door looked as unwelcoming as the rest of the place. And judging from its appearance, it was highly possible it’ll crumble right in Akira’s hands. 

He honestly hoped it won’t. That would defeat any slim chances Akira had at being sneaky.

Well, now or never. He shook his head, trying to collect himself.

Akira put his hand on the handle and opened the door. 

Something red surged at him; he grabbed his knife and slashed the air, and the attacker  _ exploded in his hands; _ he jumped backwards and-

-and the scrap of rubber hit the floor. Akira stared.  _ Oh. _

The rest of the balloons floated lazily in the air at his eye-level, covering the whole room. They were packed to the brim; must have tried to escape as soon as Akira opened the door.

Good thing Morgana wasn’t here. Akira would never be able to live that down. 

Akira smirked and put his knife back. For a nightmare, balloons were pretty nice.

He stepped inside. 

The doors behind him shut close, leaving him and the army of balloons in the darkness. Okay, that was less nice.

He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hand. One of the balloons popped right out of existence and the rubber landed at Akira’s face with a  _ splat _ . He’d need to be careful from now on, if he wants to not have everything slap him in his face.

Or not. Akira quickly cast a spell and a thin layer of protective magic encircled him. “Maragi.”

The sound of hundreds balloons being annihilated was deafening. Too bad he couldn’t block sounds. Was it even possible with a Persona?

Well, he probably shouldn’t be thinking about it now, especially when the flames died out and again left him in the darkness. “Agi,” he commanded.

The flame came to him as always, finally letting him see the place.

The room was empty. Terrifyingly, hopelessly empty, with dark walls that Akira could swear were absorbing the little light he had. The ceiling and the floor weren’t interesting too - they seemed to be made from the same weird material like the walls. 

How was he supposed to proceed if there wasn’t anything? Maybe he should have taken a closer look from outside?

Akira turned around-

The door was gone. Of course. Of course it would be. 

Well, that complicated things. Akira swallowed. 

He contemplated blasting the walls down, but something told him it’d probably not work out. Well. There had to be something he could do, then. No way Akechi’s palace was just an empty, slightly creepy room full of balloons.

Akira faced the centre of the room again. And, to his uttermost disbelief - there  _ was _ a way out. Well, maybe not out, but an opening, clearly leading to a next room. A kitchen, maybe? Did he not notice it the first time?

_ That’s more appropriate for a nightmare,  _ he thought. He normally would have smiled at that - but the fact that this place was probably tampering with his mind was not a good sign. Especially if he didn’t have a clear way to escape. 

There was no other thing to do that go forward. The floor seemed to absorb sound as well as light; Akira felt a bit better because of this. Though probably he shouldn’t care so much about being heard when he had a source of light illuminating him.

He waved his hand and the flame faded out. Akira blinked, getting accustomed to darkness. Thankfully, he had good intuition - even without the light, his body knew where the walls and the entrance to the next room were. He froze, trying to catch any sounds that might indicate that someone was near - but the silence persisted. That should be a good sign. 

Akira slowly sneaked in the room, his back to the wall and his hand on his knife.

Still, not a sound. The room was clear. 

But… what was that  _ smell _ ?

Akira called for a light - and froze.

As he predicted, it was a kitchen - it was horribly small, with a tiny, dirty sink pushed into a corner to make place for a plastic table and five visibly worn chairs around it. Cardboard boxes were littering the floor, some scraps of paper laying around them - present wrappings, judging from the once bright, now dirtened colours. That Akira could accept.

But on the table, there was a head.

Akira swallowed. The stink of the air stuck to the inside of his mouth as he breathed - sickly sweet odor of rot. He felt his stomach up in the back of his throat, the aftertaste of acid on his tongue - no, no, he couldn’t throw up right now, not  _ now- _

He opened his mouth and tried to take in a few deep breaths without thinking about the smell.  _ Inhale.  _ There is no exit.  _ Exhale.  _

_ Calm down. Try to focus on something. _

Can he exit a Palace just using the Nav, without finding an exit?  _ Inhale.  _ No, not possible. Morgana would have mentioned that earlier.  _ Exhale.  _ But the Palace will disappear for sure if he takes the Treasure. If everything fails, he can try to go manage by his own.

_It’s just a Palace. Just an illusion._ Akira licked his lips. _It’s not real._ _It’s not a real body._

His hands curled into fists and he forced himself to take a step forward. He looked again at the table.

Up close, he could see more details - like the scratched surface of the table, or the plates covered in dust. Six, to be exact. Five in front of chairs and one in the center.

And on one of them, at the head of the table, a head. 

It laid on its back, so that the place where neck should have ended and torso started was painfully visible. It wasn’t even a clear cut; there were grey shreds of- of skin and  _ something _ , like it was shredded right out of a body and displayed here as some sick trophy.

And, god- it would have been  better if Akira could just pretend he didn’t recognize the face. If he was naive enough to convince himself it was no way it could be Goro - but the locks of brown hair and the face features were unmistakable, even twisted and rotting.

The flame flickered in Akira’s hand and he could swear he saw something move inside Akechi’s half-open mouth.

Akira threw up.

The sour aftertaste lingered in his mouth, and it was almost a relief. A flame faltered, suddenly weakened - and Akira let it go out for a second, because then he didn’t need to look at the head on the table or or his boots covered in vomit. He could close his eyes and prop himself on the wall and try to pretend that nothing of this had happened, that all of this is fake and not getting to him at all-

But somehow, knowing that somewhere in the darkness there is a severed head - close enough that he could touch it if he extended his hand - while not being able to see it was even worse than actually staring at it.

What if that… that something in Akechi’s mouth moves again? What if it crawls out? What if it hides in the dark, creeps somewhere Akira can’t see it and-

_ No, no, no. _ He couldn’t think like that, not now, not  _ here _ \- He would only keep scaring himself over and over again. Panic would just make the matter worse; already he felt like he was spinning, falling down in the sticky, thick darkness.

Akira coughed and called for a flame again.

Nothing happened.

“Agi,” he said again - but no one answered. Not even one of his Personas in him. No, this couldn’t be - he was still in a Metaverse, right? Still in his Joker suit.

So why couldn’t he call for light?!

The darkness was suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He  _ had  _ to get out, no matter what, no matter how - he couldn’t stay here, in this darkness, in this place-

He hit the wall with his fists. “Let me out!” he yelled and hit again, feeling the impact deep in his bones. “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

Akira threw his whole body on the wall; he will take the whole Palace down if he has to. Screw this, screw this all, he needed to get out,  _ now- _

And then, something resounded in the darkness.

* * *

**Ryuji** : Hey dude

**Ryuji** : you’re buying stuff right?

**Ryuji** : wanna hang out? I’m in Shibuya rn

**Ryuji** : I can choose some weapons right? Man, i really need new gun

**Ryuji** : heeeeey don’t ignore me

**Ryuji** : Akiraaaaaa

**Ryuji** : Futaba says you are near Kanda, what ru doin????

**Ryuji** : waaaait.

**Ryuji** : Are you maybe with that…. Girl?!

**Ryuji** : OHHH I AM RIGHT I KNOW IT

**Ryuji** : you should have just told me! And tell me ASAP how it went

**Ryuji** : good luck dude ;)

 

* * *

“Haru?”

Haru’s head perked up. “Mako-chan!” She quickly got up, discarding her gardening gloves on the floor of the rooftop. “What are you doing here?”

Makoto shook her head. “I wanted to know what are you… what are you doing.” She nodded, as if to emphasize her point; a slight blush creeped on her cheeks.

Haru smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tending to the garden, as you can see.”

“Of course.” Makoto nodded again. “I just… wanted to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Haru said it in her usual, carefree tone of voice, but something about the wording made Makoto flinch.

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Makoto made a step forward. “I mean… We are going against Akechi. And not only that - Akira decided to change his heart. I would understand if you would have… objections.”

Haru didn’t meet her eyes; she crouched and grabbed her gloves again. “I’m alright, really.”

Makoto crouched as well and handed Haru the second glove. “I know. You are strong.”

“That’s flattering, coming from you. I always thought you are the strong one.” And here it was, another of those disarming smiles of Haru. So sincere, and yet...

“I’m simply speaking the truth,” Makoto replied. She and Haru got up.

Makoto coughed. “I know how it is… when you lose your father. I know it hurts.”

“Does it?” Haru fidgeted with gloves in her hands; she seemed not to notice the dirt starting to stain her fingers. “He was a bad person. He was ready to sell me off just to make a profit.” The gloves slipped out of her hands and hit the floor with a dull sound. Haru looked at her hands. “Hey, Mako-chan.”

“Yes?”

“I should feel sad, right?” Her eyes met Makoto’s - and there was something dark there, something similar to how Haru sometimes looked when taking an enemy down, something that all of them acknowledged but never talked about. “I should feel something, at least.” Her hands curled into fists. “Then why, Mako-chan, why don’t I  _ feel _ anything?!” Haru’s voice shook, and, oh - she lowered her head, but Makoto could still see path of tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m-I’m sorry.” Haru wiped her eyes impatiently, leaving trails of dirt on her face. “It’s none of your problems, I shouldn’t be dumping it all on you like that-”

Makoto put her hands around Haru and hugged her.

Haru froze for a second, and, oh no, did Makot do something wrong? But, no - she felt Haru’s hands twist in the fabric of her shirt. 

“I’m-I’m sorry-”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Makoto caressed Haru’s back; Haru hid her face in Makoto’s chest and sobbed. “It’s alright, Haru.”

Haru only shook and kept crying.

In that moment, Makoto sincerely hated Akechi. He was as bad as they come; he was a killer, a traitor - he was the reason why Haru was suffering right now, the reason why Akira’s life was endangered, why Sae’s investigation was so fruitless… He was cunning, crazy and false.

So why, why Akira insisted on saving him?

Of course, Makoto knew the advantages of that - but whether they  _ should _ really change Akechi’s heart was a completely different thing. Against all the logical reasons why, Makoto really just wanted to smash Akechi’s head open. Beat him up so hard he wouldn’t be able to stand. Make him beg for forgiveness - Haru’s, Akira’s, all the people’s he has killed.

And yet… Despite everything, Akira didn’t seem to mind anything at all. In his eyes, there was no hesitation - and he even went as far as to personally check whether his plan to change Akechi’s heart would work without informing anyone.

_ Just what the hell is he thinking? _

Makoto pressed Haru closer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they will have to deal with all of this.

_ But until then…   _

Makoto put her face in Haru’s hair and let the feelings flow.

* * *

Akira froze.

The sound resounded again - the echo bouncing off the walls was disorienting, making it hard to decide from which direction the sound was coming from. Akira felt his body tense. 

_ Focus _ , he reminded himself.  _ Don’t turn your back on it. Prepare.  _

He took a deep breath to calm down - it was awfully loud in the small spaces of silence in-between the repetitive noise - and reached for his knife. Thank god, it was still where it was; at least he could count on it, even if he somehow couldn’t summon his Personas.

Akira finally identified where the sound was coming from; a little bit to his right, probably not so far off. Slow, rhythmic and repetitive.

Whatever it was, he had to check it out. He swallowed.

Picking a fight in a darkness would definitely be risky, but which other chance would he have? Ambushing an enemy was the only advantage he could have right now. 

Putting one hand in front of him, he slowly turned in the darkness and carefully made a step forward.

The sound intensified. As he thought, it really was close; now he could even distinguish a few tones in it - somewhat metallic splash, as if some liquid was falling to the floor…

Now or never.

Akira jumped and slung his knife forward the enemy.

The loud, metallic sound of impact almost deafened him. He ducked, anticipating an attack - but nothing came. He listened closely… and yes, the sound repeated, right above his hand.

After a second, he stood on the tips of his toes and stuck his hand there. And he felt a liquid dropping on his fingers. A little bit higher - and there was a metal tube, from which the water was dripping.

He attacked a fucking sink. 

What was up with stabbing inanimate objects here?! Akira almost threw his knife on the floor with frustration. He really was worried here, dammit. 

Maybe this Palace wasn’t as dangerous place as he thought.

It was still pitch-black dark, though. And without the ability to call for fire, well - he was pretty much at the mercy of the Palace.

Okay, then. This was a kitchen - a kitchen with an oversized sink positioned way too high, but still. If it was a kitchen… maybe there was a light switch somewhere on the walls?

Akira made a step back. He bumped into something - a chair? - and flinched when he heard the screech of the furniture against the floor. Nothing dreadful happened, so it was probably safe to assume that for now he could focus on finding the switch.

Akira stopped stepping forward when he felt a cold surface of a wall under his fingertips. He grazed it, trying to feel anything that might be what he was looking for. He found nothing. 

He walked with his hand on the wall around the room. He couldn’t feel anything even slightly resembling a switch; only whole lot of cold wall. There didn’t seem to be any way out of there.

He sighed. This wasn’t going anywhere. Was he missing something?

No, it couldn’t be; he walked around the room, and he was pretty sure he was aware of everything in the room now. He knew there was a sink, a pair of cupboards, a high table - without a head, thankfully - and a few big chairs here and there. 

Thinking about it now, the size of those things was… unusual. He had to stand on his toes to reach the sink, didn’t he? Maybe…

Maybe all of the room was supersized? 

Akira stood on his toes and tried again feeling the wall. He made a few steps, again bumped into a chair - and there it was, right under his fingertips. Akira smirked and turned it on.

The light blinded him for a second. It flickered, as if the lightbulb was not used for a long time and was just about to give out. Akira seriously hope it wouldn’t. He had enough darkness as for now.

Akira blinked. As much as he expected it, seeing the room so changed and yet so similar to what he has seen before was… weird. 

It was unmistakably the same room he has already been - the same chairs, table and sink. Only it was bigger, much, much bigger than before, and without the passage he had come in from. He was barely able to reach the top of the table and take a peek at the surface - with a single, big plate on it. It really didn’t seem to be made for any normal-sized humans. But it  _ was _ the kitchen in Akechi’s childhood home, so…

So he must be looking from a child’s perspective. Akira took a look at himself - he still was in his costume, but it seemed awkwardly big. Almost as if…

“Oh no.” His hands were more delicate than he remembered, legs shorter - that might have explained his previous clumsiness. And probably the inability to summon Personas. In some twisted way, it was logical - after all, it was about Akechi’s childhood, so… Well. It wasn’t completely ridiculous, at least.

Which in no way meant that Akira was pleased with being forced into a form of a child and left defenceless.

He made a step back and stepped on his coat. He barely managed to stay upright on his legs. Okay, so that was going to be a problem. 

Akira pulled the coat off. His shirt, trousers and boots were too big now, too, but after rolling his sleeves and fighting with the lacing it was almost bearable, at least so that it wasn’t outright obnoxious. 

His knife, thankfully, stayed strapped to his waist. At least he could count on it.... Though it would probably be wiser not to pick up any fights now.

Akira threw his coat to the floor. He won’t be needing it anyway, and as much as it was cool, right now it would be more trouble than it’s worth. He never really noticed how heavy the fabric was when not worn on the back. Or when being a child.

Honestly, he thought nothing weirder would happen after getting turned into a mouse that one time, but Metaverse once again proved him wrong.

Speaking of Metaverse… How much time could have passed in the real world since he got there? And how much time will pass until he gets out? Will the rest of the Phantom Thieves look for him? They agreed to meet tomorrow, but Morgana may get suspicious if he doesn’t come back home. Sojiro and Futaba, too. Will they figure it out, or just think that… that Akechi has figured it all out and got to him?

Akira shook his head. No, he shouldn’t worry about it. Of course they are going to get here; and when they do, they will all be able to take a breather. Till then, he should make as much progress as he can - just so that he can smile at them and show them they didn’t need to worry.

And to cover as much of Akechi’s mind as he can.

Akira licked his lips.  _ Okay _ , he thought.  _ Focus. What do we need to do next? _

There was no point in staying in the room - despite being much bigger than before, nothing has seemed to have changed. There even were the same cardboard boxes, the same scraps of paper on the floor… It was almost funny, as much could change when he just stopped seeing for a second.

An idea popped in his mind. It was stupid, really… but at that point, it wasn’t like he had much choice.

Akira braced himself, put his hand on the switch, and turned it off.

The darkness blinded him momentarily; in the same bizarre way as before, he felt the world under his fingertips change. The same sensation of falling down and spiralling, making him take a deep breath and tense his body-

Akira flipped the switch. 

He looked around, his hand on his knife - and sighed with relief. To his right, there was an opening - the dim light of the lightbulb above his head was not doing much to enlighten what layed further, making it seem as if the passage led straight to darkness.

He made a step forward - and something at the floor rusted under his boot.

Akira’s hand automatically flew to his knife, once again. And once again he sighed, identifying what spooked him this time. 

Absent-minded, Akira grabbed the scrap of paper from the floor and unfolded it.

It looked like a memo note, with a stripe of dried-up glue on the back.  _ Get a present for Akechi. _

Akira’s brows furrowed. A present? He looked around one more time - and, yes, he has thought the pieces of paper kind of resembled present wrapping, right? Even the table with all of the cutlery could, in some weird way, be a part of it.

Furthermore… was that a hint of what he should do to get out, or something completely unrelated? Should he keep it, or should he throw it away?

After a second of hesitation, Akira put the note in his pocket. No matter what the answer will be, he’ll know soon enough. It seemed that there was much more left in this Palace to explore, after all.

He faced the entrance to the next room. It almost looked like a hole rather than a passage with how dark and unwelcoming it was. 

For a moment, Akira wondered what would happen if he just stayed there, in the kitchen. There weren’t any enemies around; he could just sit down and wait for the others to catch up to him. He would have to wait while staring at the hole, wondering whether something will crawl out of it… But as for now, he was safe. Staying and waiting would be the wisest option. Right?

And yet… And yet, in the back of his mind, he could feel the urge to move forward. It wasn’t a safe room; any security he had was doubtful at best. Staying meant resting, and resting meant vulnerability - and Akira couldn’t afford it. He could almost sense time flowing away between his fingers.

_ Now is as good time as ever. _

Slowly, quietly, he left the warm light behind him and stepped into the darkness. Though ‘darkness’ would probably be too generous of a term - more like a twilight; Akira could vaguely tell the shapes of the things in the room.

But the first thing that he noticed was how soft the floor was - but not like the carpet would be soft; no, it was more of a springy substance, uneven but still resilient. Akira could almost feel how his feet drown a little in it. He extended his hand towards the nearest wall - and, yes, it seemed to be made from the same soft, weirdly familiar rubbery substance. It was too dark to tell its color or any other detail… But other than that, the room seemed to be filled only with another set of supersized furniture - a small table, an armchair… And scattered around the room an awful lot of empty bottles.

Akira got closer to one of them. It was too big to pick up - he could swear it  was almost as long as is his own height right now - but judging from the shape, it had to be a wine bottle. Pretty expensive one, at that, Akira was sure. The tag was way too fancy to be anything but.

He raised his gaze from the bottle - and in the place where it was before, like it never left, with a stripe of light under it, was the door.

A gasp escaped Akira’s throat; he couldn’t think. His body moved on its own, walking, then running to the door - door to  _ outside _ \- his feet drowning in the mushy substance, but none of that mattered, not at all, because he would be free soon, away of there, away of-

He tugged on the handle and, thank gods, it swung right open-

Cracked tiles. A dirty sink. Fogged mirror. A bathtub with a worn, filthy curtain, closed. A bulb above the mirror, casting a wavering light on all of this.

Akira almost cried. His hands shook; he brought them to his face. His fingernails dug inside his cheeks.

Of course. Of  _ course _ the Palace wouldn’t let him escape. He would stay trapped here forever, till something takes mercy on him and finally-

He slapped himself across the face. The pain made him gasp, but in a weird way, it made the feelings clouding his mind subdue, even if a little.  _ Focus. Think. _

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. And he felt it again.

The stench. Sickly sweet, sticking to his mouth and nostrils, leaving acidy aftertaste. 

The smell of rotting meat.

He tensed; his eyes scanned the room, looking for, for  _ something _ (not Akechi, definitely not Akechi), but none in his field of view looked like rotting.

The smell persisted, though. It had to be somewhere close. Akira stood on his fingertips and looked into the sink - but there was nothing except filth there.

That left nothing to explore, except for the bathtub. Akira turned his head - and in a split second in the corner of his eye, something moved.

He stared at the curtains. Did it really happen, or was it just his tired mind playing tricks on him…? 

Akira sighted lightly. He really had to be exhausted, if he started thinking like this. Thus far, nothing has attacked him, besides inanimate objects. No reason for the Palace to start being a threat now, right?

He made a step forward and pulled the curtains in one, smooth move.

The smell hit him like a bludgeon; the world spinned around him and his eyes watered, but even that couldn’t stop him from seeing the body laying in the muddy water. 

It had to be there for a while, judging from the look of it - Akira didn’t  _ dare _ to look at the face-

_ (opened mouth no eyes nose collapsing) _

-but some part of him couldn’t help but stare at the skin peeling off here and there, the greenish shade of the body, the long, dirty hair that floated around in the water…

And one hand, propped on the edge of the bathtub, holding a rust-covered knife.

The woman - Akira was fairly sure it was a woman - had to die holding it. Her fingers, way too long and pale, were clutched on the handle. 

Akira swallowed. 

The thoughts swirled in his mind, mixing and colliding with each other. The balloons. Akechi’s head on a plate.  _ Get a present for Akechi.  _ A knife in a woman’s hand.  _ Akechi’s mother commited suicide.  _

Akira really wanted it all not to make sense - but it did, in a terribly logical way. And even worse - he knew what to should do.

His hand shook when he reached for the knife.

The blade looked disgusting, but it was better than touching the body, so Akira pulled on it, trying to pull it out of the clutch of the fingers. The blade moved a little - and then something stopped it. Akira could feel his heart thump inside his chest. Okay, then that won’t work. He had to…

Slowly, carefully, he put his hand of the fingers of the corpse. 

Even through the fabric of his gloves they felt disgusting, sticky and mushy and-

Akira would have thrown up if he had anything left in his stomach. He swallowed the bile in his throat - and against himself, he pulled on one of the fingers. 

It was more stiff than he expected. It uncurled with a bit of force of Akira’s - a careful, calculated move, not to lose his balance and drop into the water. Akira didn’t know in which state the parts of the corpse placed underwater were, and he definitely did not want to find out.

_ Four to go _ . He braced himself and one by one, he freed the knife from the corpse’s grasp. It was slow, way too slow for Akira’s liking - a stagnant torture - but it ended, finally, and Akira let out a sigh of relief. He grabbed the handle of the knife.

The fingers closed around his hand.

Akira gasped; without thinking, he pulled out his own knife and stabbed.

A stream of blood hit Akira’s face; the sound that escaped from the corpse’s mouth was nothing like Akira’s have ever heard before, made his body tense and adrenaline to cloud his senses. His knife cut right through the wet body, only stopping with a loud jarring sound on a bone.

But he did enough, it was enough; he must have cut the nerves or something because the fingers went lifeless. Akira grabbed the rusted knife and pulled away before another hand reached him. The amount of blood that was coming out of the wound on the wrist of her hand was horrifying; it shouldn’t be possible, it  _ couldn’t be possible,  _ but the red liquid was spurting everywhere, on the walls, the mirror, the floor-

A hand grabbed a curtain, with fingers way too long to be human, with too long, sharp nails - 

The bulb behind Akira flickered and gave out.

Akira made a step back, slowly inching closer to the door - and then he heard a wet sound of something landing on the floor and he all but ran.

He swung the door open; a thought of closing them didn’t even cross his mind - it would mean wasting precious seconds, and he didn’t have that time. He put the rusted knife in his coat, shifted the grip on his own weapon, and- 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t fucking move. 

His feet drowned in the floor - and when he felt something grip this clothes, he finally realised what was so familiar about the substance.

It was the feeling of skin. Of hands. Hands, latching onto his clothes, pulling him down, making it impossible to move, to run-

He heard a step behind him. Not further than a few meters, at best.

He was still sinking; almost to half of the height of his calf, too quick, he won’t have time to-

Akira blindly stabbed the swarming flesh encircling his legs; he felt the skin and tendons break under the blade, and to his relief - one of his legs came loose, then next.

Another step behind him.

He looked around, trying to find something, anything, to grab and get himself away from-

Wine bottle was floating atop the sea of flesh. The table.  _ Kitchen. _

Akira didn’t hesitate; he lunged forward, hoping to god he would be able to make that jump-

His fingers scratched the glass; his upper half of the body landed on the solid surface, but the rest-

He kicked, kicked as hard as he could, trying not to hear the rustle of skin moving against skin and the slow, rhythmic steps of-

Akira wrung his legs free; the bottle wobbled dangerously, threatening to dump him into the blindly searching hands. He barely managed to stood up - the bottle turned under his feet, eating away his momentum, but he landed with both his feet on the table. 

The hands scratched the downside of the table, as if trying to scratch their way to Akira.

He looked forward - the kitchen was  _ right there, _ safe and lit. He would need to make another jump-

Something grabbed his hair from behind and Akira  _ knew _ .

Akira turned around, swinging his knife - but the thing behind him didn’t flinch, didn’t step back, only let another screech out the hole that once have been mouth, exposing rows and rows of long teeth-

Akira striked the hand gripping him with all the strength he had; the skin broke easily again, but this time, he didn’t stop when he felt resistance of a bone. 

It snapped under his hands, freeing him - but the creature lunged forward, making him lose his balance-

With the last of his strength, he rebounded from the table escaping under his feet and-

-and he slammed all of his body on the kitchen table. Akira sighed with relief.

And he heard a step behind him.

“What do you WANT from me?!” Akira screamed into the Palace. He looked around - 

_ Akechi’s head on a plate. _ Empty plates. Empty plate at the table.

_ A present. _

Akira gripped the rusted knife and ignoring all of his instincts begging him not to, he took a step back. He only had one chance; he had to throw the knife perfectly, so that it would land exactly where it was supposed to be, or-

He heard a sound behind him and threw the knife.

There was a terrible, terrible fraction of a second-

-and Akira heard the rattle of metal against chinaware.

When the darkness enveloped him - sweet, sweet soundless darkness - he knew he had won. For now.

Because the other thing he knew for certain was that the Palace was no longer a safe place.

* * *

_ Torso in symbolism - (1)base, beginning, harmony _

_ (2) feeling, compassion _

_ (3) (wounded) grief, anger, distress _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! It's my first time writing a horror story, so I am really self-conscious about this, especially since I barerly had any time to proofread this story at all. Sorry for any typos or awkward phrasing here and there.

“He’s late.” Morgana wiggled his tail. “Can’t you message him or anything? He really needs to rest if we’re going to the Palace tomorrow.”

Futaba snorted, not leaving her eyes off her laptop screen for a second. “Even I can’t do something if he decides he doesn’t want to write back.”

Morgana rolled his eyes and unceremoniously jumped on the keyboard.  

“Hey!” Futaba smacker her hands around, but Morgana was not the one to be easily defeated. After a few seconds, Futaba sighed with resignation. “What do you want? You miss him so much?”

“That’s not it and you know it!” Morgana glared at her. “Anyway…You can track his phone, right? So you know where he is.”

“Only approximately. I mean, I can’t tell exactly the location, but, well, close enough.” Futaba stretched her hands above her head, as if talking with Morgana took all of her strength. “And before you ask; yes, he stays more or less in the same place, but Akechi did nothing to him. I checked his phone and there was nothing there to suggest that he even knows Akira is still alive.”

“He could have known his phone is bugged.”

Futaba shook her head. “No way. I didn’t leave a trace; I was sure of that.”

“So, no Akechi. But still… it is odd.” Morgana took a look at the time displayed on the laptop. “He should have returned home a long while ago.”

“Maybe you are just super protective.” Futaba shoved Morgana out of the blue; he rolled off the keyboard onto the floor with an offended meow. 

“The chances that he got murdered is pretty low, you know.” Futaba started typing again, only to stop with both her hands in the air a second later. “...It is a little odd, though. He should be laying low for a while, and being out at night…” She bit her lip, deep in thoughts. “Naah, can’t be. He isn’t stupid enough for getting into some trouble.”

If Morgana had brows, he surely would have raised them. “You think?”

“Oh, shut up.” Futaba threw a piece of candy in a general area of Morgana. “Stop worrying and focus on getting ready for tomorrow’s raid.” 

The typing started again, a long, steady flow of sounds. Morgana only rolled his eyes one more time, just to make a point, and jumped back on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable place to take a nap. He curled up on a pillow in the head of the bed and closed his eyes.

Futaba stopped typing. “What?”

Morgana opened an eye. “Won’t you let me sleep in peace?”

“No, I mean…” Futaba’s expression changed; her mouth pressed into a thin line and her brows drew together.

Morgana raised his head. “What happened?”

“The Palace… it’s…And the signal, too…” Futaba’s hands went back to work so fast Morgana barely could comprehend it. 

“What do you mean, the Palace?!” Morgana jumped, claws and all - no time for subtlety, now - and Futaba shrieked. 

“Don’t you dare!” Her voice was weirdly high and broken, almost… desperate.

“Futaba,” Morgana tried softly. “Hey. Futaba. What happened?”

Her hands were shaking. “It’s- the Palace. It… it changed its location.”

“What? But-”

“That’s not all,” she interrupted him, as if not hearing his words. “Akira’s signal… it moved  _ with _ it. I knew he was close to the Palace, but now…” She looked Morgana in the eye. “Morgana… He is  _ in  _ the Palace. In Akechi’s Palace.”

Oh, that definitely complicated things.

* * *

**Futaba** : We have a situation.

**Yusuke** : It really has to be an extraordinary occurrence if you decided to use proper grammar.

**Futaba** : We don’t have time for this, Yusuke.

**Futaba** : Akira didn’t came back home. He went to the Palace

**Ryuji** : what?

**Makoto** : Weren’t we supposed to go tomorrow?

**Futaba** : We were

**Futaba** : that’s not all though

**Futaba** : from what i can see… the palace moved its location

**Ann** : wait, is it even possible?

**Futaba** : that was my reaction too

**Futaba** : check the nav if you don’t believe me

**Ryuji** : oh shit

**Futaba** : Morgana doesn’t know how it happened and neither do i. But it did

**Futaba** : and I know Akira’s phone is located literally in the middle of this 

**Haru** : What are we going to do?

**Futaba** : We need to go to the palace asap

**Makoto** : I agree. This is all very suspicious, but we can’t leave Akira all alone. There has to be a reason as to why he hadn’t come back yet.

**Makoto** : Doesn’t it look like a trap to you, though? It is Akechi’s Palace, after all.

**Ryuji** : that doesn’t matter! 

**Haru** : I agree with Ryuji. No matter the circumstances, we should do all we can to find Akira if he’s in danger.

**Ryuji** : let me grab a few things and I will be good to go

**Makoto** : Don’t be hasty. Barging in unprepared would be even worse than not coming at all. We could cause more damage than help.

**Yusuke** : Agreed. Besides, Akira is anything but weak. If he really can’t exit the Palace, he will surely wait for us to join him.

**Ann** : But why did he come there in the first place? This doesn’t make sense.

**Makoto** : Let’s just agree to meet up tomorrow morning, okay? If Akira doesn’t come back, we will discuss the matter further and decide on what to do. There is still a chance he simply wanted to take a look around, after all.

**Ryuji** : a look around my ass

**Yusuke** : Sometimes I really wish you used grammar correctly, but you can truly make a marvelous outcome.

**Futaba** : AKIRA IS MISSING GUYS

* * *

The familiar stench of flesh was almost comforting for Akira.

“Agi,” he said into the darkness - and finally, thankfully, the flame appeared in his hand. The light danced on the walls and the table. If someone has told Akira he would be happy to see a severed head on a plate, he would probably… well, not laugh, but at least be highly doubtful.

And yet, here he was, taking in gulps of still air with almost a smile on his face.

The flame danced again - and Akira realised that that was not all what was laying on the table.

One of the plates - the one in the middle of the table - was filled, too. With a torso.

Akira leaned forward. Yeah, it was definitely a human torso; a disgusting scrap of human body, with a ragged wound between the ribs, exposing some grey parts of intestines Akira didn’t want to think about - but a human torso nonetheless, even without the hands and legs. But…

The plates. The plates around it. The way they were placed… yes, it had to be it; two on the sides, two below the torso. If there was a head and the torso, then… It would be logical to assume there were also hands and legs, right? And the hole in the middle of Akechi’s chest… His heart?

_ Presents for Akechi _ . His body? He was supposed to collect his body parts? Bring it back?

Morgana has said something about Palace’s being signs of human’s potential, didn’t he? Just what potential did Akechi have?

The thoughts swirled in his head; he made a step back - and only the nearby chair he grabbed onto stopped him from falling. His legs gave out beneath him; the adrenaline must have worn out. 

The flame wobbled dangerously, and Akira barely stopped it from going out.  _ Not yet _ , he thought.  _ I’m not ready yet. _

He sat on the floor and propped his back on one of the walls. Somehow, he felt more secure that way. Even though, realistically speaking, if anything attacked him right now, he would probably be screwed. 

But the silence persisted, and it was more comforting than any sound would.

Akira reached into his coat. Thank god, whatever magic that Palace ruled gave back Akira’s clothes, properly fitting this time. He rummaged in one of the pockets, and lo and behold, in the depths of his attire his nails scraped against some can. He pulled it out - an energy drink. Not much, not nearly enough, but better than nothing. Akira thanked his past self for being so forgetful at times. And for having a hoarder tendencies. He could still remember fighting in some Palaces with his pockets full of stuff.

Akira opened the can and took a sip. The lukewarm, sweet drink soothed his throat; he didn’t know how dry it was up until now. This Palace really was draining him up.

But he still had a long way to go. Legs, arms and heart… So, five body parts. Three, if he was being optimistic and count arms and legs as pairs. But…

Akira squinted. There were only five chairs around the table - so, when counting the head and the torso… It left only three.

Akira smiled. Some good news, at least. He’ll probably have to conserve energy, if he’s going to get through all of this alone.

Which hour could it be outside of the Metaverse? If the weariness in Akira’s bones was any indication, it was possible that quite some time has passed. It could already be evening, for all he knew. Maybe night. The time seemed to flow a little bit different in the Metaverse.

Did it mean that the rest of Phantom Thieves realised he was missing? Yeah, with Morgana’s protective attitude, it was more than possible. And Futaba for sure would be able to locate him with ease, as always… So why haven’t they come here yet?

Akira stretched his legs. No, he shouldn’t think about it; if he kept thinking about how everyone will back up him soon, he’d never be able to go through this Palace all by himself. Until they show up, he has to act as if they will never come.

Only Akira, the Palace and god knows what lurking in the shadows.

Well. That wasn’t how Akira planned on spending his free time.

Akira rubbed his temples and drank what was left in the can. He gave himself a minute to relax - and, with a sigh, he stood up from the cold floor. Back to work.

He looked at the table with the remains of something that once have been Akechi, braced himself, and let the darkness envelop him. 

* * *

Akira didn’t come back.

Morgana tried to keep calm, but it wasn’t easy. Not without a proper sleep, anyway - Futaba and Sojiro were way too fidgety for Morgana to close his eyes for a second. And there was still a chance that Akira would barge in Leblanc as if nothing happened, and Morgana had to be there to yell at him.

But an hour has passed, then another, and there was still not a sign of Akira. 

Morgana wondered if any of the others were as nervous as them.

Futaba didn’t stop typing for her laptop even for a second. With her brows furrowed and mouth pressed, Morgana didn’t even try to talk to her. She was way too focused for that.

At four in the morning, Morgana gave up. “Futaba, ask the other to go here. Any more time wasted and we will go insane.”

“You mean,  _ you _ will go insane,” Futaba muttered.

Morgana acted like he didn’t hear that.

Haru arrived earlier, her chauffeur driving like there’s no tomorrow and stopping with burnt rubber. Despite the time being, you know, four in the morning, she still looked as radiant as always.

Sojiro made her coffee, partly to be hospitable, party to occupy himself. Morgana really couldn’t blame him.

Ann and Makoto were next. Both of them had frowns on their faces. Haru sat down next to them and poured hot coffee for them.

Yusuke, surprisingly, was next. Surprisingly, because he specifically mentioned going by feet to save money.

Ten minutes later, Ryuji barged in, red on the face and panting.

“I… I didn’t… notice…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Futaba shrugged. “Sit down and listen.”

Ryuji collapsed on one of the seats with such strength the cups on the table clincked.

“Okay.” Futaba turned around her laptop, showing the rest the screen. “So, the Palace moved. It stopped existing where we checked, and the keyword Akira mentioned doesn’t work, too. I checked. It’s acting as if it is a different Palace, but it’s still definitely Akechi’s.” 

“When are we going?!” Ryuji interrupted her. “We don’t have time! We need to-”

“Be patient.” Ann hit his head.

“Ow!”

“Anyway,” Futaba continued, “it’s all really weird. The readings are all wrong, too. I can’t reach Akira at all. It’s like… Like someone is intentionally tuning me out.”

Makoto bit her lip. “Could Akechi be doing something to his own Palace?”

“No way.” Morgana shook his head. “I have never seen a Palace which is being consciously controlled by their owner.”

“You have never seen a moving Palace, too, yet here we are,” Yusuke said. 

“True,” Morgana admitted. 

Makoto rubbed her temples. “This is going nowhere. We have way too little data to accurately make sense out of this.”

“We know where it is, though.” Futaba tapped the screen. “Another side of town. An orphanage.”

“An orphanage?” Ann repeated. “Why… oh.”

“Yep. This is the place Akechi was sent to after his mother died. Well, one of the many, the address came up when I was researching Akechi, but-”

“Something must have happened there,” Makoto said. “But… it’s odd. If there are more than one place, would that suggest there are also more treasures as well? Since there are more than one reason for Akechi’s distortion.”

“We won’t know until we go!” Ryuji slammed his hands on the table.

“Would you stop that?!” Ann grabbed him by his ear and dragged back down on his seat.

“I’m just- hey, don’t,  _ ow _ , pull!”

Haru muffled a giggle. No matter what, some things never change.

Futaba coughed theatrically. “When we consider that the keyword has changed, we can see why Akira can’t leave. Probably not only he doesn’t know where the exit is, but the Nav would not let him out anyway.”

“So,” Yusuke said, “we need to guess the keyword and inform Akira?”

Futaba raised her brow. “Were you listening, Inari? I told you I’m being muffled out. There’s no way for me to communicate with Akira right now.”

Makoto tapped her lip with her finger. “If we can’t get him out, we should go in... What if the place changes again, though? We would all be trapped.”

“But at least he wouldn’t be alone,” Haru said. “Who knows what can happen to him… It’s Akechi’s Palace, after all.”

It was an unspoken agreement of them to never mention it again, but neither of every single one of people present could forget. Akechi was uncomfortably close to succeeding not so long ago; and Akira would be…

Makoto shook her head. “We can’t focus on what we don’t know. Fist of all, we have to investigate the place and hopefully either find some way to contact Akira or guess the keyword. Futaba, your assistance would be highly helpful.”

Futaba glared. “What, did you think I wouldn’t want to help Akira?”

Makoto ignored the snappy tone. “I think we all agree there is no time to waste. We should move.”

“Well, no way we’re going to sleep anyway,” Ryuji said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

Makoto looked around - and despite traces of tiredness visible on everyone’s faces, every pair of eyes looked at her back with determination. 

Phantom Thieves were ready for a rescue mission.

* * *

Akira immediately felt the difference in the air. It wasn’t as heavy as it was before - no trace of decay or rot. Quite the opposite, to be honest; the air had a weird chemical aftertaste, like it was just recently cleaned. Something about the scent reminded Akira of a hospital, or maybe a public bathroom, where the stench of cleaning fluids was supposed to mask the rest of smells. Artificial, heavy, unnatural.

“Agi,” Akira said. He didn’t expect it to actually work, but to his relief, a small flame appeared in his hand, casting light around him. The hallway he was in seemed almost too normal. He turned around - and the table was there, pressed to the wall, with a single plate on it. It was plastic and scratched - one that would be usually brought to a camping site, not a home. 

Because this place had to be inhabited. Right? If the first one was the place where Akechi’s mother has died, then this should be the next on the list. Another one of Akechi’s nightmares. A foster home, maybe?

The hallway was not lit - of course - but it was pretty narrow, so Akira could see both walls on his sides well. Every few meters, there was a pair of adjacent doors, but Akira couldn’t see the details from that far. Or how long the hallway was. 

Akira sighed. The idea of going through a long, narrow and poorly lit hallway was not a pleasant one, but what could he do? He had his knife, and his Personas seemed to be responding as well, so now he had more chances than ever before. If Akira was good at something, it was how to fight. And how to get out of tough situations when fighting. 

All in all, it could have been worse. 

With new acquired confidence, Akira stepped forward.

Nothing happened.

Akira let out the breath he didn’t know was holding, and proceeded onward.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud - hell, he didn’t even allow himself to think about it - but some part of his mind was more than convinced that the doors on his sides could swing open at any moment, revealing… something, someone, ready to attack, something which was waiting for him, for an opportunity to strike whenever he made a step closer to a door...

The paranoia encircled his mind like a pack of wolves. The hallway didn’t seem to end; it was long, longer than by any means it should be, with the same wooden floor under his feet and doors and doors and doors…

If he had turned back, would he see the same thing? The same neverending hallway?

Akira stopped - and behind him, he heard a footstep falter. 

His breath hitched. He turned around - but as far as he could see, nothing seemed out of ordinary. Did he imagine it? Was it his own footstep resonating in the narrow hallway? Yes, it was possible; no need to panic.

And even if… It would probably be best if the thing following him in the darkness didn’t know he noticed.

Akira started walking again, this time listening closely to his own footsteps. Right, left, right, left, right, stop.

_ Tap, tap. _

This time, he definitely heard that: tiny sounds, just at the verge of his range of hearing, but surely there. Something was following him. Something in the corridor.

He started walking again. The sound of the thing’s footsteps seemed to get lost in Akira’s, and that was a good sign - it was careful, it wasn’t chasing him, it wasn’t getting closer. It was just… there. 

He really should have reached the end of the corridor by now. 

What should he do, then? Turn around? Try one of the doors? It was way too many of them; there was no way he would randomly choose the right one. Maybe it was some kind of a puzzle, again? But there weren’t any clues… 

Akira huffed - and stopped with a foot mid-air. He listened closely, but he couldn’t hear anything. The thing following him must have stopped.

For some reason, it was more disturbing than when it was following him.

Akira turned around. 

He saw something move; he braced himself, called for his Personas once again and barred his knife and-

Something,  _ someone _ he couldn’t see rushed at him; Akira jumped to the side, but the thing was as wide as the corridor was. He felt a rush of pain and his body was thrown on the wall - the impact knocked the air out of his lungs, made him gasp for breath, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t as much as look at the thing, because his mind was begging him not to, because in some indescriptive way the sheer shape and color of this  _ thing _ was making him want to hide, to get away, was making his head hurt almost as much as his side-

With a loud snap, all doors in the hallway opened. Akira’s eyes were watery so that he barely could see, but he was sure  _ something _ has moved again, redying for the next charge, and his body reacted on his own. He made a step forward - his side was struck with a sharp wave of pain - and lunged forward, not caring how he’s going to land, he just had to get away, as far as he could, as quick as-

He grabbed the handle and shut the door behind him, cutting off the way to the corridor.

Akira gasped. 

He tried to stand back up, but he was struck with pain again. Something was not right with his left leg; whenever he tried to move it, it felt as if burning needles were piercing his flesh. The light he has called for earlier was now barely here. In this state, he would not be able to heal himself - hell, he didn’t even know if any of the spells he knew would work here at all. This Palace seemed to ignore all the rules and make up its own.

Oh, that was bad. Really bad. Especially with this - this  _ something _ just on the other side of the door.

Before he realized, his eyes focused back on the entrance. The door looked solid, wooden and heavy, but there was no lock. There didn’t seem to be anything around which would be heavy enough to barricade the entrance, either. And if  _ it _ was strong enough to throw Akira on the wall hard enough to damage his legs… 

Akira swallowed. 

The silence was deafening. 

Did… Did it go away? Was it waiting for a chance to attack? 

Akira’s fingers tightened on the knife. His eyes hurt from staring into the darkness so much, but he wouldn’t dare to close them even for a second. Because, what if, what if something will happen in that small fraction of the second, what if he won’t get a chance to as much as tense-

Scratch. Scratching on the door. Slow, almost nonexistent, but definitely there. Akira could feel the sound creeping under his skin, into the back of his skull, tearing apart him little by little. Patiently. Gradually.

Inhale. Exhale. Focus. How long till it gets into the room? Was it trying to? Why didn’t it try to barge in and get Akira?  _ Why does it keep scratching?! _

Akira couldn’t take this anymore; the knife fell out between his fingers and hit the floor when he covered his ears. He pressed them as hard as he could, just to cut out this damn sound, but it didn’t stop, the nails on the door, under his skin, crawling, tearing the flesh apart with long, sticky legs-

Something was moving. Moving on the back of his neck, stretching his skin, biting, probing, extending one leg after another, eating away at his nerves, moving,  _ moving, alive- _

Akira clawed at his skin. No, no, no; he had to get it out, he  _ had to _ , before it eats him alive, something wet was dripping from his neck-

It was no use. He couldn’t get it. He couldn’t take it out. And it was moving, moving again, down his spine, around his thigh, pulling at the inside of the wound and making him choke out of pain, and he couldn’t take this, it just had to  _ stop _ , no matter how, no matter…

A knife. A knife on the floor. 

Akira grabbed his knife and in one smooth movement stabbed the thing under his skin.

Akira yelled. His vision went white; he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Everything was too much; the blood dripping on the floor, the fading flame, the sudden silence around him. His face was wet, he couldn’t tell from what - sweat, blood, tears? It didn’t make a damn difference.

Because he has just put a knife inside his leg, and something was still on the other side of the door.

He had to stop the bleeding. He could feel the blood slowly soaking his trousers, staining his hands when he tried to touch around it… No way he was going to fight like that. Not when his vision was going so hazy and shaky.

Why the fuck has he done that?! Why didn’t he realize?! It was a Palace, a damn Palace, of course it was going to try to deceive him, just as Akechi was, all the time, just waiting for Akira to slip up, to believe him for a second-

The door opened.

And Akira saw darkness before the light went out.

* * *

“I don’t like this place.”

“None of us do, trust me.” Futaba sighed. “But it’s the place, no doubt.”

“You mean, it was. I can’t believe someone would live here now.” Makoto gestured towards the remainings of a building. “At least, I hope so.”

“Yep.” Futaba showed them the screen of her laptop. Makoto wondered if it should be considered an extension to hers body at this point.

Nonetheless, the photo on the screen looked acceptable to imagine an orphanage placed there. It was old, made from bricks in a bizarre shade of brown. It was probably painted. Probably long ago. Very, very long ago, judging from the look of it.

Ryuji leaned in, trying to get a closer look. “Well, this definitely looks like a murder house.”

Ann gasped. “Ryuji!”

“What? I just-  _ Ow _ , stop with that!”

Makoto would never admit it out loud - out of, you know,  _ basic respect, Ryuji _ \- but he was uncomfortably right. There was something creepy about the old walls, worn swing on the lawn, metal gate… All of this was giving out the classic cliche haunted house feeling.

Haru giggled. “For me, it looks fine.”

As much as Makoto liked Haru, she really was saying the most bizzare things sometimes.

“Well.” Makoto coughed. “There’s not much to investigate here, I’m afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t try to guess the keyword.” Morgana jumped out of Futaba’s bag. “What matters is that there’s a Palace in this place in Metaverse.”

Futaba sat down on a ground with a groan. “If you want, go on a trip around this place. I need to check something.”

“Something?” Yusuke asked, raising his brow. “You are sure you are not saying that just because you want us to leave you alone so you could waste your time unsupervised?”

Futaba frowned and opened her mouth - and after a second, closed it. She let out a long breath and focused back on her laptop. “We don’t have time for this, Yusuke.”

Yusuke looked beyond confused.

“Let’s just… leave her alone for a second, okay?” Ann said. She grabbed Yusuke’s sleeve and dragged him away before he could comprehend what was happening.

“Oh, for…” Ryuji run after them. “Ann, you can’t just- Hey, wait!”

He tripped, he fell, and he swore, which earned him a kick from Ann.

Makoto sighed. 

“Futaba?” Haru asked in her soft voice. “Are you alright?”

Futaba’s fingers lost the rhythm; she pressed the wrong buttons, made a mistake - Makoto couldn’t tell. What was apparent, however, was Futaba’s pressed lips and tensed posture, the way she hung her head so that her long hair covered as much as it could.

“Y-yes,” Futaba said. ‘I’m- yes. I just need to focus. It was-”

“Hey, take your time.” Haru sat down next to Futaba and delicately put a hand on Futaba’s head, slowly stroking her hair. “You must be exhausted. You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

“She haven’t stop working even for a minute,” Morgana said, laying next to Futaba as well. 

“That’s impressive.” Haru smiled. “But remember, it’s also important to take care of yourself. So if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

Futaba nodded sharply. “Yeah. Yes, I know.” She wiped her face with a quick movement of her hand. “Thanks. It’s… it’s hard without Akira.”

“It is,” Haru said. “But we need to overcome this to get him back. He believes in you.”

“I know,” Futaba repeated. “I’m gonna- gonna do my best.”

“Hey.” Makoto crouched in front of Futaba. “You are not alone. We are in this together.”

“Of course.” Futaba raised her head, and Makoto saw her lips stretch - not quite a smile yet, but close enough.

It was surprising how everything was fragile without Akira. He was their leader, the one that made them all work, despite their differences. The link that connected them all. With him gone, even for just two days - there was something missing, something they all could feel. Makoto was used to being a leader, but it was always a challenge for her; Akira did it so naturally and effortlessly, mixing logic and improvisation in just the right proportions for it to work. Leading a team without him… It seemed almost impossible.

But Makoto couldn’t settle for impossible.

She stood up. “Futaba. You said earlier that something was disrupting you.”

Futaba blinked, surprised, but quickly nodded. “Yeah.”

“Could you try to track down what is disrupting you?”

Futaba’s brows furrowed. “I tried that already, but it would be too complicated. I mean, it’s not a priority, right? We should try to get out Akira out of there first.”

Makoto run a hand through her hair. “True… But you were working on that all night, and we still don’t have results. And tracking down whatever is causing this might tell us a clue on how to get inside the Palace and whether or not someone is meddling with this from outside.”

Haru laid her hand on Futaba’s shoulder. “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to. We all understand it’s incredibly exhausting.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” Futaba rolled her shoulders and put her fingers back on the keyboard. “It’s not that hard, I just need some time.”

“Shall we leave you alone?” Haru asked.

“No,” Futaba replied immediately. “I mean… if you want to stay, I’m not against it.”

Haru smiled. “Okay.” She stayed where she was - enough distance to make Futaba comfortable, but still close and ready to comfort.

It was hard without Akira, but they would manage. They had to.

* * *

Akira awoke with a gasp.

He propped himself on his elbows - and the wave of pain made him remember why he had blacked out in the first place. He slowly extended his hand, trying not to move any damaged muscle, and touched the place where the dagger was piercing his body.

Or where it has been, rather. Akira searched his body, but he couldn’t feel the handle or even the blade. Instead, at the place where the pain was radiating from, his fingers caressed something soft - a piece of fabric, maybe. Whatever it was, it stopped the bleeding - otherwise Akira would not be alive right now.

Who could have done that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, the Palace itself, wanted him alive?

Probably to suffer more. There was no way Akira was getting out of this that quickly.

He smiled at the thought - and then winced, once again attempting to raise. With gritted teeth, he managed to prop himself on a wall and get to some kind of half-lying position. 

“Agi,” he said. His voice was more raspy than he anticipated.

The flame was smaller than before, but it appeared, and it was enough for Akira to feel a wave of relief. He could finally see-

“For fuck’s sake,” he murmured. 

He was back in the hallway. And he wasn’t even sure he could stand up.

But there was no ‘could’ or ‘couldn’t’ here, was it? He _had_ _to_ stand up and move, no matter what. He didn’t have a choice.

He gritted his teeth again, propped himself on the wall and, putting as much weight at his healthy leg as he could, he slowly made himself stand.

His left side hurt like hell. Oh fuck, what if he had broken ribs? He didn’t know that much about first aid, but he was fairly sure he would not be able to do much if that was the case. Not in the Palace, at least. He didn’t have anything at his disposal that could help him in any way.

Akira stared at his leg. Yeah, as he felt, a piece of fabric was wrapped around his leg - not a bandage, but seemingly enough to keep him alive. He supposed he should be thankful for this; without it, the pain would probably be much, much worse.

But there were things worse than pain. 

Akira bit his lip. His mind was hazy; the last seconds before he lost consciousness were blurred, unclear - there was blood, a lot of it, and… And… 

The door opened, Akira remembered. It opened, and something came in.

Akira looked at the bandage. No, impossible. It made him - well, it made him do  _ that _ to himself, so it definitely didn’t have good intentions, right? 

Well, it didn’t matter now anyway. He couldn’t hear anything moving, no steps, otherworldly shrieks or anything. And once again, he was left with no other option than processing forward. Of course. 

With one hand propping on the wall and being careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg, he was able to make a step forward, albeit his body was still screaming at him not to move and do something, anything to stop the pain.

Akira bit his lip and ignored it.

As he suspected earlier, the place looked exactly like a hallway from before. He didn’t find what he was supposed to, then. What it could be? Akira didn’t even know what the place was supposed to represent. The only leads he had was Akechi, and… And that weird voice, which made Akira do…

Akira made the next step, and something emerged from the darkness.

He took in a sharp breath-

It wasn’t moving. A boy - no, a corpse. Just a corpse, splayed across the corridor. Overall short, not visibly decayed - and, most importantly, not moving. Akira watched it for a few heavy seconds, but nothing has happened. The movement he thought he saw must have been some play of the light and shadows; nothing to be concerned about.

And even if… Well. Unless it attacked him, Akira saw no problem with the thing being alive and kicking.

He limped forward. The light danced again, and Akira saw it this time; the slight glimmer on the corpse, as if it was covered in something. He leaned in - and, yes, he was correct. A thin veil of shiny substance, delicate and with many threads twisted around… Akira has seen something like this before.

It was unmistakably a spider web.

What kind of a spider could possibly produce so much web…? Akira didn’t know much about spiders, but he was fairly sure most of them didn’t eat humans. Or cover their dead bodies in a web. Though, to be honest, any logic of the outside world couldn’t apply in a Palace. 

_ Clawing under his skin, stretching long legs- _

Akira’s hand flew to the back of his neck. The dried blood stuck to his fingertips - a reminder of his fingernails breaking the skin.

Could… Could that have been...?

Akira shuddered. That- that couldn’t have been real, could it? There was no way that earlier… No, no. The Palace was trying to deceive him once again, play on his fears so that he would hesitate. No, he was stronger than that.

He looked around, making the flame get bigger for a second. The hallway and the doors were still the same - well, except for the corpse laying in the middle of the corridor. That kind of ruined the aesthetic.

Akira smirked.

The point was, Akira didn’t see or hear anything absolutely threatening at the moment. Assuming that he was completely safe now was stupid, but paranoia wasn’t going to help, either. Until he was directly faced with a danger, there was probably no need to assume that he was going to be eaten by an oversized spider who might or might not have been under his skin earlier.

Well, that was an optimistic thought.

Akira put his hand on the wall and carefully stepped over the body. The light danced on it again, and Akira got a glimpse of its face. 

Akira nearly tripped.

The eyes and mouth were wide open, dark wounds of pale flesh. There was no blood, not even a single drop - but the sole curve of the mouth, as if the boy was screaming, maybe begging for someone, anyone to help him-

Akira took in a deep breath. Okay, that was unexpected. But not exactly random, either - if the previous place was Akechi’s childhood home, then now… It probably was…

But why would a corpse covered in spider web lay in the middle of the corridor? What purpose did it serve? Was it meant to represent something? It was not Akechi’s face, nor anyone’s Akira could recognize… 

He tore his eyes away of the corpse and instead stared into the darkness in front of him. He shouldn’t stay in one place for long; some indescribable feeling inside his guts was telling him to move, to find a safe place where he could rest properly and make sure he wasn’t bleeding out.

There were much too many questions this Palace provided. Akira doubted even Akechi could know all the answers, but he probably knew what this place was, and what Akira should be looking for. Previously, it was a knife… But now? 

Akira felt dizzy. His limbs were heavy, and his eyes were burning from staring too much into the dark. But he couldn’t stop, not yet - at least until he gets out of this place, then he would probably be free to sleep in the kitchen...

Yeah. That was a good thought. He should hold on to this.

But first, he must do what he was here for.

It was hard to see whatever in the flickering light of the flame - fire was Ann’s speciality, he didn’t exactly pay too much attention to it before. Maybe he should have. But then again, neither of the previous Palaces required nearly as much attention as this one. Human psyche was not so complicated there, with only few challenges they had to face… 

If his Palace was so twisted, how could  _ his _ mind work in reality?

Akira bit his lips. Making judgment here - it would be unjust for Akechi. And, hell, Akira was the one who insisted on saving Akechi. Backing off now… It wouldn’t be fair.

Not that he had an option to get away anyway. The corridor was like before - it seemed to go on and on endlessly, with rows and rows of closed doors. The corpse was nowhere to seen, even when Akira turned around and made the flame shine as much as he could to at least be able to measure the distance. He didn’t bump into the corpse again, so the corridor wasn’t looping, either. Was he supposed to do something? Was one of the doors he walked past open?

He couldn’t get it. He really, really couldn’t get it.

Somehow, he felt as if it was his fault that the Palace was trapping him. Maybe it was. Akira was willing to accept that, if it meant getting out, or at least processing further.

Yet the corridor still persisted, as hollow as it was, with rows and rows of locked doors leading nowhere, with the horribly silent, wooden floor and the pulsing pain in Akira’s leg.

It was pointless. It was stupid. It was petty. With each passing second, Akira hated this place more and more.

But the burning in his leg pushed him forward, making him remember what happened, and the pain whispered in his mind that he couldn’t take this for granted, that the silence was traitorous and false, that something, someone was lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability to strike…

It could have been paranoia, but Akira wasn’t willing to risk it all. Not yet. 

He just needed to walk forward, despite of everything, and surely,  _ surely _ he will arrive somewhere where he was supposed to. It couldn’t be an end, could it?

There had to be something he didn’t try. Some point of… all this.

He once again took in his surroundings. Creaking, wooden floor under his feet; stone walls with way too old wallpaper peeling off in some places; doors, doors and more doors around him…

With a flame floating just in front of him, really, the only place he didn’t look at yet was… Was the ceiling.

That couldn’t be it… could it?

Cautiously, he made the flame float higher, enlightening the walls – the corridor was higher than he expected – and…

And that had to be it, because Akira didn’t suppose the ceiling was all covered in spiderwebs simply for artistic expression. Also, because when the flame flickered, Akira’s eye caught a small glimmer of something stuck in the web. It was too far away to tell anything more than that, but Akira let out a sigh of relief nonetheless – if it was important enough to be hidden from him in such a weird way, it probably was a Treasure.

Akira called out his Persona and the web was severed, a small glimmer falling right to Akira’s hands-

A long, long limb emerged out of the darkness on the ceiling. Akira couldn’t tell if it was an arm or a leg, only that it was long, pale and unmistakably  _ there _ , searching around in the darkness in the place where the Treasure was a second ago.

Another limb peeked out of the dark, moving on the spiderweb with astounding precision-

When he was little, Akira had seen a spider hunt a fly. He even played with it a little, throwing small leaves and grass into a web, watching with amusement how the spider quickly moved across the entire place, attacking and trying to kill.

Akira has never seen a fly get out of a spiderweb.

A face seemed to fly out of the dark. It was human, but at the same time, it was not; it was mangled, twisted and melted, as if someone took a dozen of faces and put them together, creating a thing with many, many eyes and mouths and which shouldn’t be able to move, much less  _ live _ , but it tilted its head and moved in that weird, chilly way all spiders do and-

And Akira should have started running ages ago.

He clutched the small thing to his chest and run – and then his leg gave out under him, a new wave of warm blood soaking the fabric. He gasped and stumbled, but he couldn’t stop, he had to make the next step, and another, even if it meant the pain made him cry out and nearly blinded him, overwhelming all of his senses.

But he wasn’t going to escape. He couldn’t. He would never be able to outrun it, not with the way it crawled way too quickly, and, god, Akira could feel the many eyes’ gazes on his back, moving closer and-

Akira’s breath quickened. He was trapped. He was trapped, with no way back, no way to leave at all, and of course it was a trap, of course it was, he was so naïve, so stupid-

He would die here, quietly, without being able to accomplish anything at all.

He heard it, moving above him, and he dove to the floor. Pain was overwhelming, but he still could feel when the long fingers grazed his back, even when he splayed his body as much as he could.

Akira was safe here… was he? It wouldn’t be able to reach-

A dry rustle of skin was the only sound that warned him.

Akira turned on his back – he gritted his teeth – and was met face to face with the creature.

Up close, the resemblance to a spider was creepily obvious; a spider made of human body parts, sewn together in a way that made Akira shiver just from looking at it, some primal part of his brain telling him that it’s not right, not  _ natural _ .

Mouths on the creature’s face opened, and a row of fangs peeked out, making a crown encircling the face, each one long as Akira’s arm. The white eyes of the creature glimmered, looking at Akira – and for some reason, Akira was sure the creature was smiling at him, smiling in a gruesome, cruel way, like a pleased cat when it corners a mouse, well knowing it has no way to escape.

Like a spider approaching a fly in the web.

It had no reason to hurry; Akira was aware it knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand up and run away fast enough. Not nearly enough.

He didn’t even have his dagger now, and he was tired, so tired, the flame enlightening the monster was visibly dying out; his body was heavy, he wouldn’t be able to call forward his Persona if he tried-

Tek. Tek. Tek. Sound of skin sliding against the wood, the monster dragging itself on the floor, leg after leg, closer and closer.

He would not be able to escape. He would die here, right now. He was defenseless, completely useless, left at the mercy of the monster in front of him; maybe, if he was stupid enough to get into this situation, he really deserved to die just like that, a painful, meaningless death that-

Akira bit his lips. It… It was weird; these thoughts were too strong, too clear in his hazy mind, and in the voice whispering them something rung false, like a wrong note in a familiar song.

_ You are useless _ , the voice whispered. _ You should die here. No one would miss you anyway. Just stop struggling. _

It would be so easy, simply accept his fate and let the fire finally disappear.

_ Just stop. _

Akira’s eyelids fluttered; they were heavy, and he was so tired… So, so… tired…

Akira raised his hand and punched right in his wound.

He yelped. The pain struck him like a slap in the face, but it didn’t matter, because the thing was still there, and no matter how hard he would try, he would still have to fight it, even though he couldn’t move his leg, even though he had no weapon-

The monster jumped forward, its long limbs stretching, and Akira saw long fingers with broken fingernails, mangled and twisted and-

“AGI!” Akira yelled.

The world turned into fire, and Akira clutched a small, glimmering thing to his chest.

* * *

Futaba’s brows furrowed. “That’s… That’s weird.”

Haru’s hand in her hair halted. “What do you mean, weird?”

“It’s… No, it… but… Let me check it again really quick,” Futaba murmured under her breath. Her fingers started moving again, typing on the keyboard with newfound enthusiasm. No, no enthusiasm, Makoto realized, more like… like desperation, boosting her effort, but not exactly livening the mood. “All things suggest that someone – not just random factor – made up a system to refract the signal, making it too scattered for me to pick up properly.” Futaba raised her eyes from the screen and looked Makoto in the eye. “But the core system is accessible. I can’t turn it off remotely, but I know its location.”

Something was wrong. Futaba’s eyes were too big, too hollow; she never was good at hiding her emotions.

Makoto swallowed. “What is its location, then?”

“Mementos.”

Haru’s eyes widened. “Mementos? But-“

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Futaba cut her off. “But I checked three times now, and everything leads to Mementos no matter what. It’s weak, but the signal is definitely coming from someplace in Mementos.”

Makoto put her hand on her chin. “Do you think it could be Shido’s doing? Her is aware of the Metaverse, after all.”

“I can’t tell for sure. I just know that if something is interfering with us, it’s in Mementos.” She bit on her lower lip. She was nervous, Makoto realized, but why? They have been to Mementos before, and, yes, it was never without Akira, but they really did explore thoroughly all the parts of the underworld available to them; by no means Futaba could be worried about them managing. Then, why…?

Makoto suppressed the need to shake her head. No use thinking about it now. They needed to act, and act fast.

“How quickly can we access Mementos?” Makoto asked.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Futaba said, her eyes returning to the keyboard.

Haru’s eyes were fixed on the figures in the distance; Yusuke, Ann and Ryuji still walking around in the ruins, with less energy than before, but still persistent.

Makoto reached her hand to wave at them, and something sticky touched her palm. She turned her hand.

There was a thread of a spiderweb in her hand. A big, fat spider dangled off the destroyed web, its many eyes sparkling as if it was regarding Makoto.

Makoto wiped off her hand on her trousers and shivered with disgust.

The feeling still didn’t leave her even when they descended into Mementos.

Mementos was as dark as usual. In some weird way, Makoto found that comforting – no matter what, Mementos still stood as it was, with all its creepiness and Shadows lurking behind corners, not caring that the Phantom Thieves came without their leader.

Even though they didn’t come here to fight Shadows.

“Can you please control yourself a little bit?” Yusuke asked, irritation clear in his voice. Looking at the rear mirror of the car, Makoto caught a glimpse of Yusuke splayed across the side window and fighting against a leg in his face. Futaba’s leg, to be exact.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” Futaba said, splaying even more on the back seats. “I’m just working.”

“Well, your ‘working’ is unacceptable. Besides, Skull sits next to you, as I am, and I don’t see him struggling against your stupidity. We are in Mementos, on a battlefield-”

“Somebody shut Inari up before he starts creating haikus.”

“Haikus are completely fine poetry, thank you very much.”

“I’m not against haikus, I’m against you writing one.”

“Can you be quiet for a minute?” Makoto snapped. “I’m trying to drive here.”

“I’m driving here too!” Morgana added. “Don’t ignore me just because I’m a car.”

“No one’s ignoring you,” Ann said in her sugary sweet voice and Morgana calmed down instantly.

Makoto shivered. Ann could really be scary sometimes.

“Cold?” On the passenger’s seat, Haru tilted her head. “I can give you something hot to drink if you want.”

Makoto shook her head, way too quickly to be natural. “There’s- there’s no need for that.”

Haru blinked, confusion clear on her face. “Oh. Okay.”

Makoto wanted to drive Morgana into the wall. They wouldn’t die, probably, but nonetheless it probably still could prove therapeutical to crash a car. Or at least to run a few Shadows over.

God, Makoto should be focused on other things beside her crush. Akira was in danger, dammit. He could get hurt.

He could get killed.

The thought reverberated in Makoto’s mind, coming back over and over again. And yet, it still was unreal; Akira was strong and composed, their Joker, and somehow came out of the biggest danger unscratched. To think that he could be… Be dead… It didn’t  _ feel _ possible.

But Makoto was well aware that the possibility of the situation didn’t depend on her feelings.

“How far away is it, Oracle?” Makoto asked.

“We are not even close. It’s deep, and when I say this, I mean  _ deep _ . Like, Inari’s level of deep.” Makoto heard a muffled “ow!” and deduced that Fox was once again met with one of Oracle’s limbs. Great teamwork of the Phantom Thieves strikes again.

“How deep? You mean lower than where we have been before?”

“Yep. We left the last few levels unchecked, right? So it’s probably somewhere there. I don’t know if it’s the effect of Mementos changing, but it’s moving, too, so I’m probably right.”

“Except if you are wrong. Even if- Ow! That was unnecessary!”

“As was your moaning. Just shut up, Inari, I’m trying to work here.”

“As if we are not working towards the same goal. You are insufferable.”

“Stop arguing, would you?” Ryuji’s voice cut the air, and both Futaba and Yusuke fell quiet. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Oh. If Ryuji was being the most responsible one, they really were at their limits.

Ann had to think that, too, because she spoke up first, ending the awkward silence. “Um, Futaba? Besides that… Have you learned anything new? I mean, about Akechi’s Palace? Did it move again?”

“Nah. It stayed at the orphanage for now, and I still can’t get in. But I dug up some records from the time that Akechi was there, and just, ugh.”

“Ugh?”

“Yeah. There were some pretty weird things going around there. Apparently, one of the caretaker was drugging the kids and abusing them – they managed to cover it for some time, but then few kids had to be rushed to a hospital. One of them died.”

“Died?!” Ann nearly shouted. “What were they doing to these kids?!”

“Judging by the medical records… Lots of things. There were traces of some illegal substances in the kids, so I guess someone was testing drugs on them… or at least trying to tranquil them low-cost. Oh, one of the staff noted that kids hallucinated a lot, even long after the possible intake of a drug…”

“Did it cause brain damage?”

“I dunno. There isn’t so much more in the records… Maybe there would be more in some police reports.” Futaba’s hands moved across the keyboard. “Uh-huh… It seems the orphanage was not closed after that, though. None of the staff pleaded guilty, and there was no definitive proof to base an arrest on.”

“So, they got away with it.”

“I guess.” Futaba sighed. “There were a few minor incidents after that, too. Mostly fights between orphans... but it probably didn’t end here. And… And the abuse, either. The guy running the place…” Futaba seemed to be struggling, so Makoto cut in before the girl was forced to say something she so clearly didn’t want to.

“Orphans are one of the least protected social group,” Makoto said. “They are minors and with no relatives, they are completely at the mercy of their caretakers. And… Well, the social stigma sure is not helping them overcome these difficulties.”

Futaba relaxed visibly, her hands picking up the pace once again.

Ann nodded. “No one would know if they were abused. And even if… There’s no guarantee someone would care enough.” There was something in her eyes – something that made Makoto remember all those months with Kamoshida, when they were all trying to pretend like nothing was happening. Ann had to know what all of… that felt like, to be alone and helpless, unable to so much as beg for someone. But even then, she had her parents and friends to support her.

Akechi had no one.

Makoto coughed. “Well, I don’t suppose they had the greatest family experiences there.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Ryuji murmured. “Damn, I’m almost feeling bad for him.”

“You mean Akechi?”

Next to Makoto, Haru dropped her hands and folded them in her lap.

“Who else could I mean?” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “I mean… Shit. First his mother, now this…”

“In no way it excuses his sins, however,” Yusuke said. “He chose to walk the path of a sinner, even though he should understand well what it meant.”

Haru nodded. “You- you are absolutely right.”

Makoto didn’t look to the side, but she was sure the slight shaking in Haru’s voice was the same as the one when she hold her on the roof.

The rest of them fell silent. There was nothing to say. Nothing that would change the position they were in, nothing that could possibly make them understand what Akechi thought when he chose to do the things he did.

Earlier, when they were taking down Kanejiro and – well, even fighting against the Shadow of Sae, not one of the Phantom Thieves wavered. No one had any doubts; they were the ones bringing justice, punishing those who did wrong, who hurt others and abused their power. Phantom Thieves were justice – their opponents were false.

But now, when faced against someone like Akechi, someone who has fought alongside them and smiled with them, someone whose past was such a horrible string of events it wasn’t able to contain itself in just one place, the line between justice and injustice began to blur.

Maybe it never was that simple. Maybe they just didn’t choose to see it that way. Because it was simpler, and thus, safer to believe in their justice, and not ask too many questions.

But on the other hand… Akechi hurt people. He tried to kill Akira – someone who has done nothing but trusted him and gave him a chance to prove himself, to be a part of their family, and Akechi showed no remorse, no sign of ever regretting what has happened. He shouldn’t be forgiven, not unless he begs for it.

Yet, still…

“It’s all that damn Akechi’s fault that Akira is trapped,” Ryuji said, stretching his legs. “I just… Damn it.” He punched the window so hard Morgana yelped.

Makoto couldn’t put that more accurately if she tried.

“Hey, is it just me or is it really quiet?” Morgana said suddenly.

Makoto looked around. “Yeah… There should be more Shadows at this level, right, Oracle?”

“What?” Futaba raised her eyes from the screen of her computer and sent Makoto a blank stare. She really had to be working hard, all spaced out…

But that only proved Makoto’s point. “Something’s not right.”

“Or we are just lucky,” Haru said with a small smile. “It’s about time something good happened to us, isn’t it?”

Makoto wanted that to be true. She really did. Oh, how much she would love to lay back and just take it as it was. It would be so simple, and didn’t they earn that, just like Haru has said?

Makoto pursed her lips. “Be on your guard, everyone. I don’t like this.” She turned her head to glance at the back seats. “Oracle, can you try to scan this floor?”

“But I will have to stop looking for the source of-“

“Can you scan this floor, Oracle?”

Futaba’s mouth opened. Next to her, Ryuji and Yusuke looked at Makoto with an equal mix of confusion and – was that fear? – on their faces.

She did it again. She slipped right into her Queen attitude… But that was what the Phantom Thieves needed.

“I asked you a question, Oracle.”

“U-uh, yeah. I mean, yes, Queen.” Futaba nodded. “And, yeah, we didn’t encounter nearly as many Shadows than we were supposed to, statistically speaking.”

“But what could it mean?” Ann asked. “It’s not like the Shadows could be planning to ambush us or something, right?”

“That is highly unlikely,” Yusuke agreed, “but-“

“Eh, guys?” Morgana cut in. “We have company.”

Makoto turned her head towards the road – and despite her greatest fears that yes, Ann, the Shadows could absolutely be planning something sinister and scary, in front of them were only a few Shadows. Nothing they had never encountered before. Not so strong, too – their quickness and flying could get in the way, but that was about it.

Maybe she was becoming too paranoid.

“Noir, Fox and Panther come with me,” Makoto commanded. “Futaba, focus on getting the signal back. Mona, Skull – back us up.”

Before any of them could so much as nod, Makoto – no, Queen was out of the car.

The Shadows noticed her, but that was unavoidable in such a short and tight hallway. Makoto scanned them carefully. Their weakness… what was their weakness?

_ Just hit them until they die _ , a small voice in her mind murmured.  _ You can do this with your bare fists. _

Makoto gritted her teeth and attacked.

She threw a punch, right to the head of the Shadow; Makoto smirked, adrenaline rushing in her veins, she was free, she was the one to be feared now, she-

She missed.

Makoto stumbled and tripped; the damn thing was too quick, it managed to get out of her grasp, and now – now it was just behind her.

Makoto fell to the floor and rolled on her back, putting her arms in front of her, ready for the slash to come-

“Makoto!”

She saw a glimpse of a blade and Haru was there; she shot the Shadow in front of Makoto and finished it off with her axe. The black dust of the Shadow’s corpse didn’t even disappear yet when Haru extended her hand to Makoto.

“Mako-chan, you okay?” she asked, and even with that enormous axe on her side and the blood of Shadows on her, her voice was as sweet and gentle as always.

And Makoto was so in love with her.

“Th-thanks,” she gasped when Haru pulled her up. Without any strain, it should be noted; Haru definitely had the strength that should be admired, if not feared. Makoto did a bit of both.

At the corner of her eye, she saw Ann and Yusuke shot the enemies down, one by one. Shit, was she the only one who just mindlessly rushed into battle without any consideration? Was she really that stupid?

“Mako-chan,” Makoto heard – and then looked down and saw that Haru’s and hers hands were still clasped.

Makoto all but jumped away. “S-sorry! I didn’t realize-“

Haru laughed. “Mako-chan, you are so cute! Don’t worry about it. Lets help the others, okay?”

Makoto quickly nodded – a bit too quickly to be natural, but Haru didn’t seem to care at all. She simply smiled again and run towards the remaining Shadows, trapping them between her and Yusuke and Ann.

Makoto shook her head and made a step forward – and then she heard something.

Rustle of chains. Quiet, just at the edge of consciousness, mangled with whispers or rustle of wind, Makoto couldn’t tell, bit it  _ was _ there; something that shouldn’t be there, something that by any chances shouldn’t appear right now.

Makoto was aware of its presence, and suddenly the realization hit her.

“Pull back!” Makoto yelled. “Run!”

Ann looked at her with confusion. “What-“

“RUN!”

Makoto couldn’t remember ever being that quick, even at school festivals or any of their previous battles; her moves were always calculated or at least conscious, but this time, her body moved on its own, like her legs gained their own consciousness and decided to strike. She needed to act, and act fast; what would Akira do in that kind of situation?

Makoto grabbed Haru by her elbow and pulled her along to Morgana.

Ann and Yusuke looked at each other. “Makoto, are you really sure-“

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? RUN!”

“Calm down!” Yusuke stepped in front of Makoto. “All I’m saying is, are you really sure that we need to run away? These Shadows are not as strong to pose a-“

Makoto punched him in the face.

“For fuck’s sake, start running!” she yelled.

The rustling was getting closer, more clear in her ears, and Makoto didn’t look back, because if she saw it – if she saw it, it would all be too real, too close, and she would know she had failed to protect them, all of them, who trusted her and turned to her for leadership

Haru followed her without any resistance, and soon after, Ann pulled Yusuke along.

Only when they were all driving away, Makoto steering like a madman, Makoto realized she was crying.

* * *

_ Legs in symnbolism: (1) foundation, ground, reality _

_ (2) (injured) loss of direction, being out of control _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all of the complete chapters I have as for now. I will try to post a new one at the end of this month, so please be patient with me.  
> As for ShuAke in this story: it's going to happen, don't worry, but there is a lot to unpack here.   
> I hope you enjoyed and I would love to here your opinions and predictions in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the first chapter of the story, and if you did, don't hesitate to let me know - it would definitely be a great motivation boost if someone out there liked my ideas.


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